


Magic

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, i kinda post this here so that i can delete the ffn, previously on ffn, repost of old work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of battles for life for two orphans, one is blind, the other is mute. A light story, which told of the magic in the simpliest things of life. Love, friendship, and of course, magic.</p><p>( Or an AsaKiku fic with pretty much nothing but an accidental kiss and beauties )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic

Sometimes the boy stopped, wondering about the reason of being alive. People all live for a reason, as he was told once, leaving him to yearn for the answer to his existance. The world has always been full of questions, and there is always an answer to each. That, he had thought.

Fire will eventually die. Flowers shall also wither. And so does hope.

He had stopped feeling. Rather, he ignored it. His hope, crashed,withered, buried away at the death of his mother. The father, struggling to earn the living for the family of 8 siblings broke down soon after. His world, already a color of black, then had gotten darker. He was useless for he was blind, was hated for he was useless, and was thrown away for he was hated. He had expected that.  
And he didn't care, really.

Or did he?

* * *

Battles must be fought to survive. Food, water, a shelter, things that can't be gained without battles of life, are all hard to win.

All sides of the war need their own allies. One or more, that all depends. On you. Allies to cover the weakness, to learn from one another, to share difficulties and benefit. To support when the battles are fought and lost. All needing trust.  
He succeeded that rare time. An ally.

* * *

"The name's Arthur. Greetings."  
Four simple words written on his palm. Four simple words that add some colors to his world. He don't know when or where, nor that he remember how. Not that he need to. Just that "Arthur" being all curious, he  
believed.

* * *

It's tough to live alone when you are blind. Same when you are mute. Arthur falls in the later.  
He had a shelter. Arthur is good at battles. Arthur earned money. He added his part and put them to use. That's why they became allies. Later friends.

It was unfair that he was blind and Arthur was mute, he thought. Arthur could see the world while he couldn't. Arthur could see him, yet he couldn't see Arthur. The only trace of Arthur he can see is that grassy smell of the other, mixing with such of mint. Arthur, however, had a much clearer trace of him. He don't even know about himself. And he was jealous. Of Arthur, of the world. But that jealousy never has its chance to be voiced. Arthur killed it.

He had to thank Arthur for that.

* * *

"Can you sing?"  
Well, that shocked him.  
"Answer me, can you sing?"  
His voice, a little bit raw, spoke softly:  
\- Yes?  
"Then can you sing for me?"  
He shook his head.  
"Pretty please?"  
He hates denying people, especially Arthur, and so he agreed. He sang. About life, about the world, about the people.

Mixing in the sea of lyrics and melody was that grassy scent. Was Arthur.

He got tired and stopped. Abruptly. No reason to continue.

But Arthur was smiling. He knew that. And that was enough.

* * *

Once, they spoke of magic.

Arthur was imaginative. Fairies, gods, genies or angels, all exist within his eyes. Wishes are gained, as long as you are good, he believed.  
Our boy did not went accordingly, however. Truth can't be erase, and and reality shall forever haunt.

However, both can be twisted.

It was Arthur that brought color to his black, it was Arthur that was the morning to his night.  
He wondered if he was feeling what he thought.

And he wondered if Arthur felt the same.

* * *

The flower's petals were soft.

"It is a chrysanthemum."  
Arthur wrote on his palm as the flower was given, as layers of softness laid on his palm. The scent was enchanting.  
\- On what occasion is this? -he asked, curiously.

Much as he wished, Arthur never answered.

His curiosity grew as such scent enchant himself. The desire to see the world. The wish, so badly wanted, is never gained.

And so he asked for it. What would the world look like if he can see? And he asked Arthur.

\- This chrysanthemum.. Can you describe it?

Arthur tried his best to explain, his effort all went to waste as his blind friend couldn't get an image of the plant. And so Arthur talked of the plant's meanings, and of its story, he went on, but stopped soon later at the rare smile of the other, face flushed and chest tighten.

\- Thank you. -the blind whispered softly, fingers twirling around the plant.

Music of nature was sung as the wind blow through the grass. The weather was cold. But the boys didn't feel that.

To them, it was really warm.

* * *

Once, they kissed.

It was just an accident, pure innocent kiss. One to talk of and flush at for the embarassment. He was rushing towards Arthur, and fell on the other. No harm done, nothing to feel. Something that he could easily throw out of his head. But as he tasted the other, the kiss was just haunting, a taste that remained and never fade. And Arthur, being  
the usual "tsundere", got all flushed and awkward for the rest of the  
day.

Yes, he was in love. Pride wouldn't let him admit the strange feeling, though.

* * *

-o0o-

* * *

He found the reason for his existance then.  
He started to believe in the magic that Arthur once told him as life went on.

But this time, Arthur is that magic.

People live.  
People work.  
People are always too busy.  
People are always hoping for magic.  
But they never stop to notice the magic right beside them.  
Such magic, sometimes comes from within people.

**Author's Note:**

> it is kind of embarrasing, but melodies are to be sung as stories are to be told ?


End file.
